“You mean what you say,” Reverend Gaines replied. “That is what you are telling me in your flippant way. I understand more than you think.”
“I wasn’t trying to be flippant,” Faith said. Her eyes held a world of hurt at her father’s criticism. “Mr. Cook is conceited and arrogant. He treats people with total disregard. I could never love a man like that. So I will not marry him.”
“Perhaps you are right. Your mother said pretty much the same thing about the man. I am only thinking of your future. I must say Mr. Cook talks a good talk. He is offering you a big house with servants and the privilege of never wanting for the finer things in life. All the things I could not provide your mother.”
“Mother does not want them and neither do I,” Faith declared.
“Still,” there was uncertainty in Reverend Gaines’ voice. He was reluctant to forfeit his dreams for his eldest daughter and Faith heard his reluctance. She kissed one boney cheek before pressing her cheek against his chest.
“I want to be happy with the man I marry. As happy as you and mother are,” Faith said soberly. “Money won’t buy that only a deep regard for each other can.”
“You are using your mother’s logic against me,” Reverend Gaines accused and knew it was time to accept Faith’s decision.
“Naturally, I am her daughter,” Faith replied impishly. “Do you need my help this morning,” she asked. She often went with her father when he visited those among his congregation that was ill or confined indoors.
“I am going to see the Holts this morning.” her father stopped speaking and shook his head sadly. The Holts were a poor family living on the edge of Junction City. There were thirteen children and a wife that was sickly. Reverend Gaines patted his daughter’s cheek. “I don’t want you involved,” he declared. “There is not an easy situation. I fear for the children if their mother dies. It is not easy for a father to raise children.”
“It is a pity the older children are all boys,” Faith admitted. “Girls are much better at raising younger brothers and sisters. But perhaps we are worrying needlessly. Mrs. Holt has been ill before and recovered.”
“That is what I pray for,” Reverend Gaines replied simply. “The doctor is concerned. Illness can spread like a prairie fire through a community.”
“Is it that kind of illness,” Faith asked concerned for her father’s health.
“We do not know yet. I must go and offer what comfort I can. At times like these I feel totally inadequate,” Reverend Gaines admitted. “There is so much we do not understand about what happens around us. The why of suffering.” He sighed looking lost for a brief moment and Faith wanted to comfort him. She placed her hand on her father’s arm and laid one cheek against his shoulder. “Thank you,” Reverend Gaines said. New strength was in his voice. The shadow of sadness was gone from his eyes. “You are a comfort,” he said. “That is when you are not being impossible,” he added whimsically. A smile brightened his eyes.
“Goodbye Father,” Faith said.
Faith cleared the dining table of dishes. The kitchen was warm from the hot cook stove when she entered. She cooked an egg and sliced bread off a loaf and toasted the bread on a hot griddle. Then Faith washed dishes and cleaned the kitchen.
Monday was the busiest day of the week. The family’s clothes were washed and hung outside to dry. With five girls there were mounds of muslin underclothes. Night gowns and camisoles, petticoats and slips and the bands young women wore to flatten their breast and corsets to narrow their waist.
Mary Gaines was on the back porch leaning over a washboard placed in a tub of hot sudsy water when Faith opened the backdoor. “Has your father left,” she asked.
“I do believe so,” Faith replied. “I think he has accepted the fact I won’t be marrying Mr. Cook,” she stated hopefully. Understanding her father could be uncertain at times.
“He will try to persuade you again,” Mary Gaines cautioned knowing her husband’s moods after twenty four years of marriage.
Faith did not know what to say. She hoped the matter was closed. Her mother’s words reminding her that the end might not be yet at hand. Her father was not easily dissuaded when he felt he was right. “Father went to visit the Holts this morning,” she chose to say. “He insisted I not go along with him. The Doctor is seeing to Mrs. Holt. Her condition might be serious this time.”
“A sad matter,” Mary stated. “I don’t see what good Philip can do. But he insists he must give comfort to those in need. I do worry sometimes. Your father is no longer a young man. I sometimes wonder if Philip was ever young. He was always so serious.” There was no criticism in Mary’s voice. She dearly loved the man she had married.
Faith plunged her hands into the tub of hot rinse water and caught hold of a white petticoat. She dunked the garment several times. Wringing out water she tossed the clean petticoat into a waiting basket.
Valerie came though the backdoor a willow basket resting against one hip. She was wearing a warm overcoat with a headscarf tied over her honey gold hair. Her cheeks were rosy. “It is getting colder,” she announced. “I do believe winter has arrived.”
“So soon,” Mary replied glancing her daughter’s way. “It was warm last week. I haven’t had time to pick all the apples off the apple tree.”
“I will help Elizabeth and Lydia do it after school,” Valerie volunteered. “No use letting the apples go to waste.” She picked up the basket Faith was filling with wet clothes.
“Wait,” Faith called. “I have only a few more to do then you won’t have to make another trip.”
Valerie opened the backdoor and
